“I was wondering…” Doc’s hat spun again, twisting in his fingers as he studied its brim.
The dark horse with the dark figure on it took form. Ben raced up behind the doctor in a cloud of dust. bringing Walter to a halt as the dirt plumed around them. I saw the warrior there again. Tall, striking a pose on a magnificent animal. In one sweeping motion, Ben dismounted, lit on the ground, and came my and Doc’s way. I watched Ben’s every move—the way he carried himself, the way he watched me as he approached.
“Mrs. Howard.” Ben came alongside Doc and stopped, both men tall and slender, one sharp and determined, the other gentle and smooth. “Would you say your husband was an investor?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is this a trick question?” Even through my frown Ben’s eyes shone, the piercing darkness of them, an ebony sheen I’d never seen before. Ben. Might not be good for this ranch. That’s what Ted had said.
“No, ma’am, it’s not. Would Mrs. Howard say her husband, Mr. Howard, was a bit of an investor?”
“Flynn was a merchant by trade, but he was always keen with money. He knew how to strike a deal. He knew how to multiply what we had. That’s why I find it so hard to believe…” I glanced at Doc. “I mean, not an investor by trade, but certainly talented that way.”
“I’d like you to come with me.” Ben’s eyes danced, a sparkle lighting the deep color. “And the boy, too.”
“He can’t be moved.” Doc’s hat stopped.
“I need him.” Ben glanced at Doc. “We moved him once before. I think we can do it again, only in the back of a wagon this time.”
Doc set his hat on his head. “He’s mending, and we can’t break whatever bonding has taken place in his bone. If we do, his recovery time will have to begin all over again.”
I watched Ben’s face, thoughts and expressions flipping past like the pages of a book, all going too quickly for me to read.
“Ted here?”
I nodded toward the barn.
Ben strode to Walter’s side.
“I said he’s in the barn,” I called, wishing he’d come back. I wanted to see that dance in his gaze again.
He didn’t come back. Ben was on Walter, wheeling in a half circle, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart skipped a beat, but it was gone. The dance and Ben were both gone as he clicked and rode away.
“Miller,” I said to Doc. “My name is Mrs. Miller now.”
The blue of Doc’s eyes darkened as he stared at me.
“That’s why I came to your office this morning. I wanted to tell you myself.”
He backed away. He didn’t ask why Ben had called me Mrs. Howard, like I would have. Instead he turned and walked to his buggy. He climbed into its seat and spoke English to his horse. “Let’s go.” Doc flicked the reins.
Doc didn’t wheel; he turned a neat circle in my barnyard. I imagined myself next to him, how it would be riding down my lane at his side. I would sit straight, and we’d hold an intelligent conversation while he gave his horse gentle and sensible commands. I glanced down at the ground—where Walter had been, where the dirt was kicked up as he and Ben had pivoted before they rode away. Or I could ride fast, in dungarees, behind a man who made no sense, and only chirruped and clicked at his horse. That made me smile.
****
“Doc?” Boss and I caught up to Doc’s buggy. He hadn’t gone far, but we covered the distance fast.
Doc looked my way, the blue of his eyes swimming in a watery glint.
“I’m heading to Liberal. Mind if I ride alongside you?” I asked.
He didn’t respond but looked ahead. I slowed Boss to Doc’s pace, a snail’s pace, and I wondered if any of Ben’s noises might work on his horse.
“Doc, I was going to lose the ranch.”
He glanced at me, his expression reminding me so much of Flynn.
“I heard…” Crimson tinged his face. “I heard you might be in need of a husband. I know how it is for widows. I wanted marriage to be good for you. Better than just some arrangement, like most widows end up with.”
I drew Boss to a stop, Doc did the same with his horse and buggy. The breeze pelted us both, threatening to whisk away whatever I tried to say. I wouldn’t let it. Not this time. I’d made a plan, and I was sticking to it. Because I wanted to. Still wanted to.
“Thank you, Doc.” What he offered was the very thing I’d wanted to avoid. A husband who cared, who tried to be Flynn. I’d wanted one who stood far enough back I could keep an eye on him until he left, no thought ever there as to maybe finding I appreciated what I saw. “I’m grateful for your consideration. Your concern.”
“Well, I…it’s just that…”
“Thank you. But I should get on. I need to hurry to Liberal.” To find Ben and settle with Mr. Gulliver, because Ted was wrong. It was in Ben’s eyes. I saw that glow and I wanted to see it again. I kneed Boss so that his rump dropped close to the ground. Then we were off. Boss knew how much I loved speed, and he gave it to me. Almost as good as Walter would.
I made every noise I could think of in Boss’s ears as we hied it to Liberal. Hied it. I’d add that word, Ben’s word, to my vocabulary.
Chapter 37
I know there’s a rat around here. I just have to figure out what’s the cheese. ~Rex
“Rest for a bit.” I stroked Walter’s nose. He’d run hard back to Fred’s field, and walked as far as the farmer pointed where the railroad was supposed to run. Fertile ground, plenty of water, the very path rich conglomerates said the line should be laid. After I’d thanked Fred, I ran Walter to Liberal. Pieces of Jim’s puzzle were starting to sound like they fit up here. He was right, as usual, and if they did… If they did, then Regina needed more than a husband. She needed a guard.
A woman hopped up onto the walkway several buildings down. Red. Blazing red. Gunning for someone. “Pretend you don’t know her, Walter.” I ducked between two buildings, stayed flat against the wall, listening for the clop of her boots, praying she would pass. Why didn’t she stay home where she belonged? Entertain Doc like she clearly wanted to?
Her steps came closer, brisk and determined, marching until she stopped not far from where I hid. Drat that Walter, he couldn’t control himself. I heard her voice, heard her flatter my horse, her tone waving up and down like a song. I pressed tighter against the building, dropped low, and slid farther away. Her cooing slowed. She took a step. I could imagine her red head swiveling from one side to the other, no doubt wondering which direction I’d gone. I inched even farther from the walkway, stayed as flat as I could until my redheaded wife with the perfect pair of trousers passed. Courage. I’d had a nip the night before, and I’d need another tonight. Criminals weren’t this much work. Except maybe Matt Morrissey, but even he didn’t scare me the way Mrs. Miller did.
When her footsteps were completely gone, I straightened and let the wind out of my lungs.
When I was certain she wasn’t coming back, I crept to the walkway, peered around the corner, and caught sight of her back as she disappeared into the postal office. I stepped out and hied it the opposite direction toward the bank but went on past it. There was a saloon not far on the other side. I doubted she’d come in a place like that—well, a normal lady wouldn’t. I pushed through the doors, frowned in the smoky interior, and took a seat near the front window to wait her out. She’d give up and go on home eventually; then I could get back to my job.
I glanced at the crowd, letting my eyes adjust to the poor light. Mostly farm sorts, ranchmen, a couple of merchants at a table off to the side. I shook my head when the man behind the bar caught my eye. I needed to keep a clear head. The barkeep nodded back. I settled to wait until the way was clear.
“Sure you don’t want anything?”
I looked up at a young woman, most of her hanging over her dress and my table.
“No, nothing. I’ll be going in a minute.” I slid her a coin for her trouble. She squeezed it down where I’d been trying not to look.
“Come back a
ny time.” She sashayed away.
The smart clip of boots made me forget the sashay. I tore my gaze from that walking cash box and glanced out the window. There Regina stood outside the bank, her head tossed back as she stared through the ornate door.
I ducked low in my seat as Regina looked my way. She stared at the saloon and beyond until someone called her name. I strained to see, but kept low as Mr. Gulliver stepped from the bank, and Regina turned. I peered over the bottom lip of the window, glad it was dark enough inside the saloon I could stay hidden while in plain view. Mr. Gulliver led Regina through the bank’s fancy door. I watched until they disappeared. I was safe. But I wasn’t so sure about her.
I scooted to the wall and pressed close to the glass.
“You’re looking awfully nervous there. Sure I can’t get you something to drink?” The cash box wiggled a drink between her thumb and forefinger at me.
“Sure, why not?” I scooted back to the middle of my seat as she set the drink on the table. I slid her another coin. Two of them, actually. One for her, the big one for the barkeep.
“Thank you. Enjoy yourself.” She slid the little coin down where it could never clink, and sashayed again back to the bar.
“To Mrs. Miller.” I lifted the glass to the empty walkway outside. “And the courage to see her through.” The drink lasted only a second. I set the empty glass down and tapped on the table. With two fingers I had drummed out a whole song my stepmother had taught Luke and me by the time Regina reappeared. I crouched as I watched her, but she didn’t look up and down the walkway as she had earlier. She looked straight toward Walter, and it was his direction she went. Dang.
I patted Jim’s letter, still in my pocket, along with Pop’s. Follow the stink, that’s what Jim had said. I stepped outside when Regina was far enough away, and turned into where she had been. The bank.
In one quick glance I was aware of who was there and who wasn’t. I wanted the youngest one. Young, with that tinge of innocence holding on. Eager ignorance. He’d be the one that would talk.
“Pardon me.” I dropped into a chair and extended a hand across the young man’s desk. He was far enough from Mr. Gulliver I felt fairly safe, but close enough I kept my voice low and my back to Regina’s banker.
The young man glanced up from the papers he was studying. He gave me a young pup’s stare before he could gather himself. “Can I help you, Mr…”
I smiled. “Winston. Cal Winston. I’m new here.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Winston. What can I do to help you today?” The not-so-wily clerk shuffled his papers and laid them to the side. Maybe he was too young. He had that eager, boyish smile.
“Well, maybe not help me so much as my uncle. He’s one of those…well, he’s not like me. I’m a worker, but he’s the guy that pays the workers. He knew I was coming to settle out here, and he asked me to check around for opportunity. Land, in particular. Or whatever else you might advise. He’s back east and plans to stay there. He likes his money to do the work for him. Well, his money and men like me that mind the till.”
The young eyes began to sparkle. He’d landed a big one. He rubbed his hands on his thighs beneath the desk, warming them up to reap some cash. He really was just a pup. Unfortunately, the big dog was nearby.
“Well, Mr. Winston, sir,” he said. “Liberal is the right place for your uncle to invest his money. It’s growing. Land is plentiful. This place has been a crossroads since its beginning, and the railroad is coming this way, too. Your uncle should come and see for himself what there is here. Liberal with opportunity, that’s what I say.”
I rewarded his cleverness with a smile. “Never known my uncle to travel much. Elderly. Old money, old bones. And lots of both.” This would bring the old dog to point when this young man reported to him later.
“I tell you what. I’ll come back in a couple of days, and maybe you can have some suggestions for my uncle. Some numbers, some names, some ideas I can look at.” I stood, crouching enough I didn’t tower over the crowd. The young man jumped to his feet.
“I will, sir. I promise. I’ll have all sorts of information ready for you. Your uncle will be pleased.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” I reached across his desk and shook his hand. He pumped mine. “Be back in a couple of days.” I tipped my hat, kept my face away from Mr. Gulliver, and strolled out of the bank. I resumed my posture once outside. I wanted to stretch, but I knew eyes were too close. I resettled my hat, and strode to Walter.
“There you are!”
“You been hiding between buildings?” I frowned at the widow Howard—I mean Mrs. Miller—as she sprang across the walkway at me.
“Never mind where I was.”
“People do things like that around here?” I leaned to the side and peered down the narrow alley I’d been hiding in earlier.
“Never mind, I said,” she repeated. “Where have you been?”
“I don’t think that much matters to you,” I said, unwrapping Walter’s reins from the post.
“Well, it does. I need to talk to you, and I’d rather do it here than back home.”
I stood at Walter’s nose, eyeing the widow—I mean, my wife—slapping my hand with the end of the reins.
“That has to hurt,” she said, frowning at my hand.
I looked down at the splinter spots, most still red.
“The posts do some of that?” she asked.
“No. These are a far worse memory than your fence and corral. Is that what you wanted to talk about?” I closed my hand over the reins.
“No. I may have made a mistake.”
“You?”
“Turns out maybe I was wrong looking for a foreign husband like you.”
“Foreign? You mean we’re not really married?”
“I mean…well, Ted was right, no one knows who you are. The bank won’t recognize you since you’re an unknown, and they consider you a risk.” She frowned, like I was a book written in a language with words she for once didn’t know. “I should have asked more questions about you, I guess.”
“More questions?”
“Well, yes. I know nothing about you, really, which suits me, but not the bank. Because of that, they’re claiming only a local name will do on their deeds.”
“Like Doc’s?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted her answer to be, but it wasn’t what she said.
“Ted’s. Mr. Gulliver said he’d take Ted’s name on the deed even though I’m married to you. It would be Ted’s name and mine. It’s just that mine won’t count for much.”
“And mine for nothing. What about the other deed you’re always talking about? And what about the debt they claimed Flynn built up? Oh, the hell they will!” I flung the end of the reins around the post. “I don’t see you kicking up your usual fuss over this. You sweet on Ted instead of Doc?”
“Of course not! I’m not sweet on either of them, I’m… Not sweet on anyone.” Red blazed across her cheeks.
She was lying. I could see her heart pounding for someone behind that crimson. “You just need a name on your deed, the right name. It’s your beginning, middle, and end. All proper when it’s done, and the way it’s done.”
The red darkened. “If we’re talking business, about the deed and the ranch…” Her fists went to those hips. “Ben Miller, I need a name the bank recognizes. Tell me who you are, come up with a tangible background, and I’ll go tell them.”
“Tangible?”
“Solid.”
“I’m Ben Miller, the cattle driver.”
“That’s not good enough. For them.”
“Then, Mrs. Howard, I’d say you should get yourself another man’s name, instead of mine. One that’s recognized. Congratulations are in order, I guess.”
“I’m not saying I want another man’s name, and I’m not…”
“Not Mrs. Howard? I don’t know what else you’d be called.” I unwrapped the reins from the post. Again. Grabbed them in one hand and swung a leg over the saddl
e. I couldn’t even look at her when I was seated. No more red hair, no more hips built for tiny fists, no more eyes that lit me up every time they flared. I clicked to Walter, pressed the reins to the side of his neck, and started away.
The widow ran alongside me and Walter, her boots clapping along the board walk while a string of clicking and grunting noises came from her mouth. Walter stopped, then he started up, but stopped again. I clicked louder than she did and dug my knees into his sides. She clicked and slapped her hands together, drowning me out. Walter jerked to a stop.
“Would you stop interfering with my horse?” I turned the widow’s way. Those green eyes bore back at me, surrounded by the reddest hair and the prettiest face… I made a sound only Walter knew, one I reserved for special occasions. Like this one. He bolted forward, and I left red and green behind. Left her with what remained of my name if she wanted to use it, and left her with her own ways. I’d seen a boarding house outside of town. I’d get a room there, get my things from the ranch, and stay out of the widow’s way. I had Luke to worry about. And Pop. Clearly she had plenty of others who could look after her.
“Rooms.” I spotted the sign. Not a clever name for a business, but it was wisely at the opposite end of town from the saloon. “Whoa, Walter.” He stopped, and I smirked. I dismounted. I’d sleep a lot better without Ted underneath me and my arranged wife a straight thirty yards away across her brown barnyard.
“Mister? Need me to water your horse?”
I heard the young voice behind me. A boy. I seemed plagued by them. First Luke, then Jess, now this one.
I tossed Walter’s reins over the rail. “No, thank you. Only going to be here a minute.” I turned, looked straight into brown hair streaming down over the forehead of that hopeful look. The one Luke had when he tried too hard, the one Jess had when he didn’t know which side of life he stood on—painful childhood or frightening adulthood. “Turns out I think I’ll be going now.” I dug a nickel out of my pocket and tossed it to him. “You look like you would have taken good care of Walter for me if I’d needed you.”
The Lady's Arrangement (Help Wanted) Page 17